Shipwrecked
by acciomischief
Summary: After a shipwreck off the coast of Barbados, Christian Casey ends up on The Dutchman, causing a great deal of confusion for Captain Will Turner. Calypso has other plans for her destiny however, and she is washed overboard once again only to be plucked out of the sea by Captain Jack Sparrow. She just wants get home, but Jack has his own plans and needs the knowledge she possesses.
1. Chapter 1

**My first potc story! This idea surfaced quite a while ago and I never got around to it until now. It is set a few months after At World's End, because I haven't seen On Stranger Tides yet and it would interfere with my plans. This is a Jack/OC story, but it will take a while to get into it. I'll be taking it slow, but don't worry. It'll come around soon! Anyways, I hope you enjoy reading this story as much as I enjoy writing it. I'd love to hear your opinions! :)  
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><p>Jack had drunk too much rum. For most people, his usual, a tankard or two, was already too much. But this time, he'd gone a little farther. Now usually, the pirate captain could handle his drink better than any other sailor on the high seas and drink anyone, man, woman or child, especially child, under the table. But on this particular day, in this particular location,(the particular location being the Faithful Bride) Captain Jack Sparrow had ordered three full rounds for a table of five...for himself.<p>

You might be asking why.

Two reasons. One, celebration. He'd finally rid himself of Hector Barbossa for good and had his ship back. No more tricks of the undead or voodoo priestesses. He was well and truly dead. The second reason was...well, because he could. He was Captain Jack Sparrow.

"Erm...Captain, perhaps it's time to go back to the ship?" Gibbs asked, raising a bushy grey eyebrow at his long-time friend in question.

Jack finished off another tankard of rum and, squinting, leaned in to scrutinize his first mate more clearly. He swallowed hard and rasped out an answer. "Perhaps not, eh?"

Pirate King Elizabeth Swann, who had travelled to Tortuga with one of her smaller fleets, frowned in disgust. She'd come for one reason and one reason only... To get any news on Will. Jack had been so adamant about not returning to Shipwreck Cove that she'd eventually had to venture out to a location he'd agree upon meeting her at, that being Tortuga. She was beginning to regret her decision. An hour now and he still hadn't told her anything! Jack turned from Gibbs and grinned saucily at her over the rim of his mug, as if knowing her thoughts.

"Jack, please. Tell me what you know. And if you don't know anything, just admit it and let me go. I don't want to birth this baby on a ship." Elizabeth said, placing a gentle hand on her protruding belly. Jack swung his head in a circle and pointed a wagging finger at her.

"Ships 'sperfect place fer birthin'. Babes turn ou' great...I was born on me da's ship, look at me."

Gibbs bubbled a laugh into his own drink and looked away as Elizabeth glared at him. She tried again.

"Jack. Please. What about will?"

"Well th'whelp was pro'ly born on land, wot with 'is—"

"News! News, Sparrow! I want any news you have of William Turner, my husband, captain of the Flying Dutchman and father of this child! Tell me!"

Jack blinked once and sat back in his chair.

"News." He repeated, an eyebrow quirking. "Shoulda asked, love."

Elizabeth gripped the edge of the table to keep from pulling out a weapon in frustration.

"Shipwrecks...on...the coast—" Jack hiccoughed and looked around in shock, as if the sound was alien to him.

"What coast?"

Jack hiccoughed once more, yawned, and before he could answer, slumped back in his chair. He was fast asleep.

Elizabeth sighed and turned to Gibbs.

"Do you know? Or am I just wasting my time?"

Gibbs shook his head, his round cheeks rippling. He didn't want to cross the pirate king, especially with her two bodyguards sitting next to her. Formerly loyal to Sao Feng, but allegiant to Elizabeth ever since his demise before the final battle. They were fiercely protective over her. She'd carried them through that fight, and for that they were grateful.

"All I know is somethin' 'bout Barbados. That's it." He said, lowering his face into his rum.

The woman considered his words and nodded carefully.

"And he's alive and well?"

Gibbs didn't have that knowledge, but he wasn't exactly in a position to disagree. Besides, he wouldn't make her doubt the faith she had in Turner, when it was all she had left.

"O 'course he is, Elizabeth. He's immortal. An' if ye got his heart, he's fine."

Elizabeth smiled.

"Of course. Just testing you, Joshamee." She said, reaching out and grabbing her mug of water.

Gibbs felt his eyebrows knitting together. Testing him? Whatever for? He swore to the high heavens above him, women were the strangest creatures of all living things on God's green earth.

"Prepare to broadside!" Jack roared suddenly, spluttering awake. He looked around in confusion, obviously wondering who had woken him up.

"Best be gettin' back to our ships then, aye?" Gibbs grinned, glad for the switch in conversation Jack provided.

"Aye. But I'm not satisfied with Jack. Expect a long, strongly-worded letter from me in the near future." Elizabeth said, using the arm of her bodyguard to haul herself out of her chair. She plucked a few gold coins from somewhere inside her oriental outfit and dropped them on a passing barmaid's tray. Gibbs nodded and helped Jack to his feet. Jack brushed him off, pretending he didn't need the assistance. One step and he began swaying dangerously.

"To the pearl then, Captain!" Gibbs said loudly, trying to snap Jack out of his drunken stupor, guiding him towards the exit.

"The pearl..." Jack whispered lovingly, his eyes glassy.

"Right, Captain. The pearl."

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><p>Captain Will Turner of the Flying Dutchman was at a loss of what to do. There he was, recruiting sailors from a devastating shipwreck and sending those already passed and those who wished to go to the afterlife off, when all of a sudden... There was a woman. In a dress. Demanding to be taken ashore.<p>

Will had been told that the ship had been coming from England and as he found out, the woman was the sole purpose of the journey. Her name was Christian Casey, and apparently, her family in Barbados had sent for her after her schooling was completed.

Will didn't know what to do. In most circumstances (Actually, in all circumstances) the sailors he encountered were men. Men who asked to go peacefully into the afterlife or men who agreed to sail upon The Dutchman under his command. He'd never encountered a woman on a wreck in his brief captaincy of the ship, and so did not know the protocol for dealing with one. Was it different for them? He had no clue.

He didn't want to risk contacting Calypso and asking her, either.

Will observed the woman curiously. Her hair was wet and plastered to her freckled face from the rain. Her dress, previously an expensive, high-fashion garment, was soaked through and torn in several places. She was shivering like mad in the downpour, and she wore a mean looking scowl. She obviously wasn't dying.

Will could not recruit her. She didn't want to be recruited. He couldn't send her to the afterlife. She didn't want to go to the afterlife. So logically, the only thing left to do, that he could do, was take her to land.

"I want to go to land." She said, clutching her arms about herself. "You have to take me."

Will turned to his father.

"Is this allowed?"

Bootstrap Bill, previously known as William Turner himself, shrugged his shoulders.

"This has never come up before."

Christian looked between them in frustration.

"Oh come on! You are the captain! You make the decisions, you know what's allowed and not allowed! And it's not like it's far away... You could look through your spyglass and see land, I'm sure of it."

Will shook his head. He'd already looked through his spyglass. There was no land for miles around. But sometimes the rain and fog could be deceiving.

"Miss Casey...All I can do is attempt to approach the shore. I can not step on land, and I don't want to risk angering Calypso by making port."

"Fine! Just near the port, then. That's all I need. Heaven knows if we get close enough I'll just swim in." She growled, her teeth beginning to chatter. Bootstrap went to search for a blanket.

Will moved away from her and looked over the rail of the Dutchman. The ship she'd been on, _The Intrepid_, was massacred. It was a miracle he'd gotten any survivors off of it at all. The ship was almost below the surface now, as its hull had been torn open and had filled fast. It was amazing how many ships had run afoul on reefs in this area these past few weeks.

"Well? Are we not going to get underway?" Christian asked, following behind him. She seemed unaffected by the sinking wreck and looked at Will instead, wanting answers. He ignored her. Bootstrap came forward with a thick wool blanket and put it about her shoulders. She seemed to soften a bit and thanked him, holding it tightly around herself.

"Captain Turner?" She tried again, leaning forward to look up into his eyes.

"I'm sorry. But there's another place we have to be." Will said, feeling the telltale signal in his bones. Another shipwreck, with more souls to collect.

"What?" She demanded, all softness disappearing.

"I'm the Captain of the Flying Dutchman...I have to do my duties, or else..." Will made a finger-wriggling motion beneath his chin. Christian's face became the very picture of outrage.

"Then put a longboat down! I will row to shore!" She yelled, pointing at the small wooden boat on the deck. Will put a hand to his non-heart as the pain set in.

"We have to leave. Now." He said, abandoning the girl by the rail and heading up to the helm. Both Christian and Bootstrap followed after him. It was Bootstrap who spoke first.

"Captain! William...I'm afraid that if we want to get there before...before the hurt gets worse, we'll have to go down."

Will nodded gravely at his father.

"Miss Casey, I'm truly very sorry. But we need to hurry. And we need to go underwater."

"Underwater?" She spluttered, her eyes going wide. "Are you mad? I need to get off this ship! We're so close to Barbados! Please!"

Will gave a grim smile.

"I also regret to inform you that only the crew can survive the depths...and so, if you want to live, you'll have to take an oath..."

"An oath? No! I demand to be taken ashore! Now! I can even compensate you, my family is very wealthy—"

Will groaned as the pain in his empty chest worsened.

"Miss Casey, at the very least promise to serve for a fortnight." Bootstrap urged, looking at his son in concern.

"Then you are free to go and I will take you towards port as planned. Just...we need to go." Will finished, gripping the wheel tightly. Bootstrap called out a warning to the sailors and the ship started tilting forward, slowly submerging. Christian let out a frustrated noise and ripped the blanket from her shoulders, shoving it at William in anger.

"Fine!"

"...Excellent." Will groaned, watching as water spilled over the bow. "Now shake my hand."

Christian gripped his hand and they shook, just as the water reached their ankles.

"Please show this woman to a spare cabin." Will said to Bootstrap, just before they were engulfed in water. Christian's eyes widened in fear. She held her breath and clutched onto the wheel, not used to the peculiar and uncomfortable sensation of the ship diving under.

"It's okay." Bootstrap said, grabbing her shoulders and pulling her away from the helm. His speech was unaffected by the water.

Christian, unable to hold her breath any longer, reluctantly let the water fill her lungs. It didn't feel any different than air. She was also surprised to notice the water didn't hinder movement at all. It was like it wasn't even there. She let herself be lead away from the helm and down a set of stairs.

Bootstrap knew of only one spare cabin, and technically, it was a storage closet. He opened the door and looked around inside, then entered and moved a few things aside to clear space for her.

"This is a storage room." Christian said obviously, her fingers closing around the handle of a mop leaning against the wall.

"Yes." Bootstrap said, kneeling down and pulling a crate towards him. He removed a roll of brown fabric and shook it out. It was a hammock.

"Honestly?" Christian deadpanned, watching him hook it up on the wall.

"Yes." Bootstrap repeated distractedly, securing the hammock tightly.

"And I'm to sleep here?"

Bootstrap knew it was pointless to answer. The girl would realize soon enough that Dutchman life wasn't always easy or comfortable. She was lucky to have only sworn to a fortnight of service, and not an eternity like the rest of them.

"The captain will most likely be calling you up later." He said, before bidding her farewell and leaving the room.

Christian was left alone with her thoughts in the water filled cabin.

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><p>William finished with the sailors of the merchant ship Wanderer and prepared himself to talk to <em>the visitor<em>. They'd had to travel farther than expected to get to the wreck and now they were anchored close (but not too close) to The Azores. She would not be pleased about that, but there was nothing he could do. Even worse, now that she'd sworn to service, she'd have to see it through to completion whether she wanted to or not. He didn't think she would be too pleased about _that_ either. Will descended the steps and headed for the storage room where she'd be staying. He stood outside the door a moment, his hand on the knob. He supposed he could come back later... But it was better to just get it over with. He pushed the door open and stepped in.

WHACK!

Will called out as he reeled back in pain, a hand to his nose.

"Don't come any closer, I—"

"It's me! It's Captain Turner!" Will shouted, holding a hand up, palm out, in defense. Christian was wielding a parasol like a weapon, but dropped it to the ground when she realized it was Will.

"Oh! It's you." She said, her demeanor calming. "You should know better than to enter a ladies room without knocking. I thought for sure it was one of the crew members coming to try and take advantage—"

"They aren't that type of men." Will sniped, shaking his head to rid himself of the pain.

"You sail on a pirate ship that hasn't docked in decades. Of course they're that type of men."

Will sighed. He didn't feel too bad about telling her the news now...not after she'd smacked him in the face, accident or not.

"Besides, Mister Bootstrap said you'd be calling me up, not that you'd be coming down. I was completely justified." Christian sniffed, taking a seat on a crate near the hammock.

"Why is there a parasol in here anyway?" Will demanded, sitting on a crate opposite her. He glared at the frilly pink thing on the ground in disgust.

"Don't ask me, it's not my ship. Or my room. My room would _not_ be crammed full of miscellaneous objects all the way up to the ceiling."

He just stared. Christian coughed and turned her head away. Will blinked and regained his train of thought before beginning.

"I came here to talk to you about something. Unfortunately, I happen to be the bearer of bad news once again."

"Naturally."

He ignored the jibe.

"Two things, actually."

Christian looked up to give him a glare.

"First, we've had to travel farther from your destination than planned to ferry a few souls and collect a few sailors..."

"How far?"

"We've basically back-tracked your whole course. We're near Portugal."

Christian let out a growl and threw her arms up in frustration. Will hurried on before she could start yelling and demanding things.

"Secondly, when you took the oath, you promised to serve on the Dutchman for two weeks."

"Right. To be able to go underwater."

Will sucked in a breath through his teeth.

"Well, the thing is...You can't just take that back. You not only made a promise to me, but also to the ship. And that is essentially a promise to Calypso herself."

"You've got to be kidding."

"Afraid not."

"So what you're saying is that I've actually got to...to work?"

"That's precisely what I'm saying."

Christian stood quickly from the crate and stooped down to pick up the parasol. Will was sure she was going to hit him again but she turned and drove it into the wall.

"That's not very ladylike." Will said, pondering the double-standard. He had to knock on a ladies door, even if she wasn't being a lady?

"This is extremely ridiculous! Set sail for Port St Charles, right now! I refuse!"

"You can't." Will said, standing up to his full height. She looked up at him, challenging him. He gave her a challenging look right back.

"You physically can not disobey. Sooner or later the ship will _make you_ work."

Christian scoffed.

"I'm serious." He said, giving her a meaningful look. Then he turned to a crate beside him, knowing what it contained, and lifted the cover. He pulled out a pair of breeches and a shirt.

"You'll be needing these." He smiled, shoving them into her arms. She grudgingly accepted them.

"Till' tomorrow, then." He said, heading for the door.

"Wait!" Christian called, moving after him. "I can't wear these!"

"It's not that hard, Miss Casey. They're extremely practical. My wife wears them all the time."

"Well I don't! And are you setting sail for Barbados or not? Please tell me you are at least _trying_ to help me!"

Will turned around to face her.

"I'm doing my best. But as I've told you before, I absolutely can NOT abandon my duties, especially just for you. And as for the clothes...well, you'll just have to get used to them. Good night Miss Casey. I'll be expecting you on deck in the morning."

"Urgh!" Christian yelled, as Will shut the door behind him.

He was walking away when he heard something crash to the ground in the cabin behind him. He didn't bother going back to see what it was.


	2. Chapter 2

**Another chapter. Hooray! This one was eight pages long. As always, feedback is appreciated.**

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><p>Captain Jack Sparrow was accustomed to raging headaches. Headaches from getting slapped in the face, headaches from getting whacked upside the head with an oar, and headaches from plain old hangovers. But this one was extremely wicked, more severe than anything he'd felt in quite a long time. Even worse, he had to stand out in the bright, scorching sun and gather a new crew. Jack tipped his hat forward, trying to block the light from his sore eyes.<p>

Some of the crew that had been onboard the pearl when Jack had gotten it back from Barbossa had been too loyal to him. When Jack had finally killed his feather-hatted foe, he'd decided to drop the man's followers off at the nearest port and collect a new crew. Jack had kept his old favorites of course, Gibbs, Marty, Cotton...even Cotton's parrot. Pintel and Ragetti, idiots though they were, were still able hands. Two more sailors he'd also kept that he'd seen a few times before; Murtogg and Mulroy. They were former soldiers of the royal navy of course, but they had turned pirate in the last moments of the final battle.

Though sometimes they proved to be more of an advantage for Jack when they were on the _opposite_ side, fighting _against _him… They were easy to distract in most cases, like when one was interested in commandeering a ship….or stealing a beating heart in a locked box. Jack put two fingers to his temple and pressed hard, the memories annoying him.

"Alright then!" He bellowed, ignoring the throb in his brain. The sailors lining the dock straightened up. Gibbs unrolled a scrap of paper and looked over the names of their current crew as they walked down the row. Jack stopped in front of a large man with beefy arms and a mean looking face.

"I don't even need to know your name, you're hired. Welcome aboard."

A wide grin spread across the man's face, revealing a toothy but sincere smile. Jack looked at the lack of teeth and nervously clicked his own before moving on. A young man with light brown hair and chocolate eyes stood waiting, looking proud.

"Ye look mighty proud to be joinin' a pirate ship, lad." Jack told him, looking him up and down. The boy reminded him of the whelp.

"..._Aye_, I am." He said, seemingly trying out the slang. He wasn't used to it yet, and it sounded strange coming from his lips.

"And why might that be, boy? You look too straight-laced to be gettin' in to this type of thing. Go find yourself a lady."

Jack started to move on, but the kid followed him.

"I _had_ a lady." He said, his eyes darkening. "And a man took her from me."

Jack froze on the spot.

"Not another distressing damsel..." He muttered, before turning to look at the boy. "You don't happen to know a pirate by the name of Will Turner do you? You are awfully similar."

"No, Sir." He replied, his face still dark. He changed the topic back to his lady friend. "The man I'm looking for goes by the name of Rogue Warren."

"Captain Warren? Hmm...never took him to be the abducting' type."

"He's not. He's the murdering type." The boy spat, glaring at Jack.

"Oh," Jack said, his eyebrows rising. He understood now. The lady had been taken from him, body and soul.

"Well, welcome aboard then...Mister..."

"Valentine. Josh Valentine."

Jack's face fell into a deadpan stare.

"Of course. Valentine." He mumbled. "Well you can join me crew, but just know, we aren't going after Warren just for you, you hear? We're in search of greater treasure...If we do happen to come across Rogue's ship, you can scurry aboard and fight him by your onesies, savvy? Because I will _not_ be getting in to it with him again, you can count on that."

Josh beamed at him and spoke a nautical word that sounded utterly wrong coming from his lips once more.

"Savvy."

Shaking his head, Jack moved down the line, acquiring new crew members at a fast pace. He didn't really care who was joining, as long as they could work on a ship and be quiet about the amount of it. He did enjoy playing the fierce captain, though. It was amusing to test the hopefuls with long and confusing speech. Jack came up to the last in line, a too-thin man with a boyish face.

"And you man! How about you? Do you have the courage and fortitude to follow orders and stay true in the face of danger and almost certain death?"

"…..Yes sir?" He replied, his voice a bit too high.

"You don't _look_ **or** _sound _it. Are you a Eunuch?"

The man's face contorted in confusion.

"No sir...I'm just young."

Now that Jack thought about it, he did look very young, and was definitely missing a manly physique.

"And how old be you, then?"

"Almost seventeen, Captain."

Jack turned towards Gibbs, who shrugged and scribbled something on his paper.

"I trust you'll work twice as hard to make up for your size and age, then. What be your name?"

The kid widened his eyes in surprise, and stuttered out a response.

"Char—Ch-Charles."

Jack smirked in amusement at the stutters. The kid most likely thought he wasn't going to be accepted, and was shocked at how quickly Jack had admitted him to the crew. It wasn't that uncommon though. He himself had been sailing on ships at the mere age of fourteen. Shaking his head to try and rid himself of even more memories, Jack turned towards Gibbs and grabbed the updated list of crew members. His head was really killing him and he couldn't wait to get underway….and get some rum.

"Welcome aboard then, Charles." Jack said, tucking the list into his jacket and walking away down the dock. He adjusted his hat once again and called out to the line of men. "Gather your possessions, say goodbye to your mates and your family, at noon we put Tortuga to our rudder!"

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><p><em>Christian walked through the field with her siblings. Christopher, her twin brother, walked tall beside her. Sarah and Mary, six and seven years old respectively, took turns running around the skirts of Christian's dress, letting out high-pitched giggles. Little Andrew, the youngest of the family, had grown too tired to walk and she was carrying him on her hip as she'd seen her mother do on numerous occasions. <em>

_A little further ahead lay their favorite location in the whole wide world, the rock. Quite an un-imaginative name for it, but it was the most fitting. Just over the hill there was a giant rock, where the Casey family liked to go and watch the sunset. It was a tradition they had been following for quite some time. On the last day of every month, the children would walk through the field across from the house and sit on the rock, watching the clouds turn pink and orange in the sky until the sun had set and the stars came out._

_This time it was a bittersweet visit. This would be the last time for Christopher and Christian. They had come of age and would both be going off to school for a few years. Christopher off to learn how to be a man, with math and business, and Christian off to learn to be a lady, with arts and manners. It was also the last time for the younger kids. Walter Casey, father of the five children and the proud owner of a chain of plantations in Barbados, was moving the family to the island to better oversee his work. They were leaving in three days. Christopher and Casey would come separately a few years later, after they had finished with their schooling._

_Christopher climbed up on to the rock first and helped Sarah and Mary up after him. Christian was content to stand beside it with Andrew in her arms. The poor thing had fallen asleep._

_"I thought that I would miss my mates most…" Christopher said, looking out at the valley below him with sadness. "But it's this."_

_Christian felt the same. She hugged Andrew close to her and shut her eyes, remembering all the times they'd come down here before. There had been the time when Sarah had fallen down and scraped her knee, she couldn't stop crying. And the time when Mary had gotten too excited and had torn her dress. Mother had been so mad._

_"Chrissy, how are you going to find us when we leave? You don't know where our new house is." Sarah said, her eyes widening. Christian looked up at her brother, sharing a look with him before glancing at Sarah._

_"I'll be on a ship with a smart captain. He'll be educated in navigation, and he'll know his way around the ocean like the back of his hand. All he will need is the name of the destination and he can find it."_

_Sarah smiled, comforted at the thought. _

_The sky overhead started to change colors as the sun began its descent, gold and orange and pink and blue all mixing together to create a masterpiece above them. _

_"….This might be the prettiest one we've ever seen." Mary said quietly._

_The others silently agreed._

Christian woke from her dream by falling flat on her face on the floor of her cabin. She groaned and rolled over, the rocking of the ship upsetting her. As she picked herself up, swaying sleepily, the events from yesterday came crashing down on her. She had been close to Barbados, the ship had gotten torn open on a reef and had started sinking…The Dutchman had appeared, picked up the few people that had gotten on deck in time, and then… they'd had to go gallivanting after another sinking ship near Portugal. Portugal! Almost all the way back to England.

Christian looked down at herself in disappointment. She was freshly (well, as fresh as one could be on a ghost pirate ship) dressed in a pair of brown breeches and a white cotton shirt, the clothing that that the captain had left her yesterday. After William had left and she was able to observe the damages to her dress in privacy, she had settled for wearing the men's clothes, even though it went against everything she'd been taught. She had to admit, they were far more comfortable that the corsets and heavy layers she'd been wearing all her life…Not that she'd ever say that aloud.

Christian stretched and prepared to get back in the hammock, not satisfied with the sudden awakening into reality. She wanted her dream back. Four years away at finishing school had accomplished nothing except make her miss her brothers and sisters. Well, _that_ and she'd also learned to play the piano. Most of the etiquette rules had gone in one ear and out the other. Christian prepared to haul herself back in to the slightly too-high hammock when her body froze up.

"Nooo…Please don't." She whined, already knowing exactly what was happening. Captain Turner hadn't been joking when he'd said that the ship would _make her_work. And now that she was up, it apparently meant it was time to get the laboring started.

"No! I didn't know about these conditions when I took the oath, therefore I'm not bound to—"

Christian was pulled by an unknown inhuman force towards the cabin door, her face slamming unceremoniously into the wood. "Alright, alright! Just leave me alone!" She yelled, wrenching herself away from it with a tremendous amount of effort. She yanked the door open and headed for the closest set of stairs. When she reached the top, she was met with the unpleasant sight of men scrubbing the deck, climbing up ropes, and doing who knows what in the early morning light.

"Miss Casey!" Came a voice to her left. Christian turned to see Bootstrap up at the helm. She headed up to meet him.

"Morning." He greeted, looking up and down at her new clothing. "I see you've come prepared. Today you'll be doing some stitching. You know how to sew?" Christian scoffed. The man was asking if she knew how to sew? Of course she did. It was basically a necessity for all women.

"Yes."

Bootstrap didn't notice her mood, or if he did he ignored it. "The captain laid out a few sails over there that need some mending." He said, pointing towards the bow. "The supplies are over there in one of the crates. I forget which; you'll have to search for them."

"Excellent." She deadpanned, looking out over the deck at the bustling sailors. How could they rise so early and get straight to the hard work? Christian felt like she was sleepwalking.

"Listen…" Bootstrap said, leaning forward to whisper to her as Will emerged from the captain's cabin below. "We know you aren't accustomed to work…My son, he knows that this is hard for you. You may think it unfair that you are trapped in these circumstances, but keep in mind that he is trying his best. He wants to help you, he really does. But the Dutchman is always on the move…and now that you've taken the oath to serve, the only way he can assist you is by giving you simple work until your time is up." Christian sighed and nodded. "Please…go easy on him. He's been through enough already." He finished, watching as Will came up the steps to the helm.

"Morning captain." Bootstrap greeted, pretending as if the previous conversation hadn't even happened.

"Morning." Will replied, nodding both to him and to Christian. "I see the ship got you on your feet." He told her, stretching his arms. Christian gave a big fake smile. Bootstrap coughed meaningfully and stepped away from the helm, offering it to his son. He gave her a glance before heading down the stairs, off to do something else. Will grabbed hold of the wheel and looked about the ship, making sure everyone was doing as they should, everything was where it should be.

"Well…I suppose I'll go to mend the sails then…" Christian said, not quite sure if Will was going to continue talking to her or not. When he didn't answer, she headed down the steps and towards the bow. At first it went slowly. She was digging through numerous boxes in search of needles and thread for at least an hour. Then, she took a seat and gathered the enormous canvas about her, wondering where it was best to start. After fumbling with it for a full fifteen minutes, she decided to just go for it. When she finally put the needle to the fabric and started stitching, time seemed to fly by. It didn't feel like work at all. And so it went, every morning she'd get pulled out of bed and brought up on deck to do some ridiculously easy task. Mend the sails, coil up a rope, prepare food in the galley… It was so easy, infact, that she had gotten bored. But she dared not complain, lest Will decide she could move on to harder chores.

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><p>Bootstrap wasn't lying when he said The Dutchman was always on the move. They'd gone from shipwreck to shipwreck, not only in the Caribbean but also across the equator and up North in colder areas. A lot of times they traveled underwater, and each time the ship started to dive down it always startled her and she always held her breath. She would never get used to it, it was just too unnatural.<p>

Christian happened to be up on deck one day as they burst out of the water next to a sinking ship close to Africa. She, despite keeping quiet about her boredom, had been 'upgraded' to deck duty, where she was supposed to mop. She didn't see the point of mopping while underwater though, and so she'd been standing at the rail watching the aquatic scenery pass by. As they exploded up out of the depths she began mopping again, pushing the water over to the drain holes. Eight sailors were rescued off the ship, and all of them decided to serve on The Dutchman. They were put to work immediately, unlike she had been, and one of the men was assigned to deck duty with her.

"Where were you headed?" She asked him, her boredom setting in again.

"Barbados." The man replied, dunking his mop into the bucket and smacking it down onto the deck with little care.

"Huh." Christian remarked. It seemed like every ship sailing to Barbados was doomed. "Interesting. What was the purpose of your voyage? If you don't mind me asking…"

"Delivery." The man said, focusing on his swabbing. He was hunched over his mop, scrubbing at a dirty spot that Christian could never get clean.

"I see. Where to?" She asked, dipping her mop into the bucket and beginning to scrub at it as well. She sensed that he was finding her questions too invasive, so she amended. "It's just that I was headed for Barbados too. I find it amusing…or ironic, I suppose, that we were both going there and became shipwrecked."

The man paused in his work and gave her a blank stare. He was obviously a man intent on his work, and opposed to chit-chat. He replied anyway, in a tone that made Christian believe it was to try and satisfy her and keep her quiet.

"Casey's plantations."

Christian gasped and dropped her mop to the floor. "Honestly? My father is the owner! Walter Casey! That's where I was headed! What is it you were delivering? I bet my father is real angry about it not arriving."

The man straightened up and gave her another look. She smiled sheepishly but didn't go back to work. She was honestly curious. She persisted when he didn't reply.

"Come on, what was it? It was probably some new furniture. Mother always likes to re-arrange the sitting roo—"

"You didn't recognize the ship, did you?" The man interrupted, giving her a meaningful look.

"No…why?"

"Missy…that there was _The Midnight Fortune_…One of the best slavers in the whole seven seas."

Christian stared, not comprehending. She had to ask again.

"A slaver? As in a slave ship?"

"That's what I said, isn't it?"

"Headed to Casey Plantations." She repeated, feeling her stomach drop.

"Are you dim? _Yes_, that's what I said. We picked up a bunch of slaves and were taking them to Barbados. Apparently we took a few to many, eh?" Another survivor from the slave ship looked over at his mate and started laughing. Christian grimaced and looked over the rail as the mast of _The Midnight Fortune_ disappeared below the surface. How many people had been aboard? It made her sick just thinking about it. She put a hand to her stomach and took a deep breath. Her eyes started to burn.

"Going down!" Called Will, as the ship started to submerge.

"Oh…no." Christian whispered, realizing they'd have to ferry the souls. She didn't know if she could handle it. Handle seeing them. It was too horrific. She ripped her hands away from the rail and abandoned her duties, hurrying towards the stairs. Christian needed to get to her cabin. But as soon she put a foot down on the top step, she felt the familiar inhuman force freeze her in place. The ship was making her go back to work. She would have to witness the souls whether she wanted to or not.

Just another perk of working on The Dutchman.

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><p><strong>Thoughts? Please take a minute to review so I can know if you guys are liking it.<br>**


	3. Chapter 3

**...And now we're getting somewhere!**

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><p>The sun was high in the sky, not a single cloud in sight, and the wind was brisk and abundant. It was perfect weather for sailing. <em>The Black Pearl<em> had gotten underway just a few hours earlier, and now it sped over the waves with vigor, beginning a brand new adventure.

"The wind be in our favor, Captain." Gibbs said happily as he appeared at the helm, a bottle of rum in his hand. He handed it to the captain, who uncorked it with his teeth, spat it aside, and gulped down a large amount of the liquid. Jack Sparrow still had a bad headache, one that could only be eradicated with the aid of more alcohol.

"Aye." Jack said, setting the bottle down before pulling out his compass. The island of Tortuga was a tiny black smudge behind them, slowly getting smaller and smaller as they sailed away from it. It was almost invisible now. He had an inkling of where they needed to go, but what he needed was a proper heading.

"The ship be in order, too. Crew's all accounted for, we're stocked full of food...Not a single thing outta place."

Jack nodded distractedly, watching his compass spin before settling on a direction. North East.

"So…Captain…what we be after this time?" Gibbs asked tentatively, raising a bushy grey eyebrow curiously. Jack grinned and snapped the lid of his compass shut. He knew Gibbs had just been dying to ask him this question, and truthfully, he'd been waiting to tell the man for days.

"Ahh…This time, Joshamee, we're after the treasure of all treasures."

"Aye?"

"Aye."

Gibbs wanted to know more. He leaned forward in anticipation, his bushy eyebrow still quirked in interest. Giving a quick glance around the ship, he lowered his voice and replied.

"Go on, Cap'n."

"...You know about the charts, correct?" Jack asked quietly, patting the chest of his jacket conspiratorially. The older man's face took on a hesitant expression. He had experienced many unnatural things in his time sailing with Captain Jack Sparrow, and he'd never grown accustomed to all the eerie, unpleasant things that they seemed to encounter. If anything, they'd taught him to be more superstitious of everything. He carried on carefully.

"The…_navigational_ charts, Cap'n?"

Jack nodded and pulled out a ratty, rolled up scroll from inside his coat. He spread it out in front of himself and then ushered Gibbs to take a look. It didn't make much sense to him. When it was clear that Gibbs wasn't getting anything out of the strange map, Jack clarified it for him.

"Ever heard of Aqua de Vida, Mister Gibbs?"

Gibbs' eyes widened and he took a step back in understanding.

"Aye, that I have. The water of life...eternal life, that is. Mighty unnatural if you ask me, Cap'n."

Jack grinned and tapped the little drawing of the golden goblet, ignoring the man's superstitious nature.

"It's this we're after."

There was a short pause as Gibbs thought everything over.

"You're going after immortality, Cap'n?"

Jack rolled the navigational charts up again and stuck them into his jacket with a smirk.

"Nonsense. I'm not going _after_ that at all."

The man became thoroughly confused and scratched his head in question.

"So...we aren't going after the fountain of youth then?"

Jack snorted as he grabbed the spokes of the wheel and turned the pearl slightly to the right.

"Of course not. It is in fact _a fountain_, is it not?"

Gibbs nodded apprehensively, worry setting in. Jack had never been quite right after the locker, that was for sure. He hoped the captain wasn't leading them all on a fool's errand, and knew what he was doing.

"Aye...The fountain of youth be a fountain..." Gibbs said, not understanding where Jack was going with the conversation.

"Therefore it can not _move_, therefore we aren't going _after _it at all, are we?"

"…Aye Captain?"

"Aye! Gibbs, have you heard tell of Galatea's Grail?"

This was one thing Gibbs had _not _heard of.

"Afraid not, Jack."

"Well…all in due time." Jack dismissed him, waving a flippant hand. Gibbs, puzzled, headed down the stairs to help the other sailors. Jack spent the rest of the afternoon steering his ship away from land out to open sea, all the while carefully watching over the new crew.

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><p>Christian was plagued with nightmares for days after witnessing the hundreds of souls lost on <em>The Midnight Fortune<em>. She dreamt of herself crammed into the dirty, crowded underbelly of the ship, hot, hungry and terrified. The panic would set in when the water started pooling around her, slowly rising above her head, giving her time to realize that there was no chance of escape and that the sailors above were too busy saving their own skin to care. She would wake up gasping for air in the water filled cabin and just lay there, wide-eyed and terrified, waiting, praying for the room to empty.

Her two weeks were almost up, and she prayed no more ships sank. Not only so that she could get off _The Dutchman_ as soon as possible, but also because she didn't think she could handle seeing any more dead people. She'd experienced far more than she'd like to, and was looking forward to setting foot on solid ground again. She missed her family so much it hurt. It had been so long since she'd been in contact with them, and she couldn't wait to see their faces again. But with the longing to see her siblings also came a reluctance to see her father. She knew it would be hard to look him in the eyes and know he'd wanted, payed and sent for a ship full of slaves, which ultimately sank in the middle of the ocean, killing them all.

"You going to eat that or not?" Asked Dane Glenham, the man she'd been sharing deck duty with for the past few days. He was also the man who'd pointed out the fact that _The_ _Midnight Fortune _had been a slave ship. Glenham pointed to the tasteless hardtack in front of her, his eyes greedy.

"No." She said disgustedly, pushing it away from herself. She'd suddenly lost her appetite.

"Suit yourself, then." Glenham replied, grabbing the food before someone else took it. Christian stood up from the galley table and headed for the stairs, thoughts buzzing around inside her head. What would she tell her family when she finally got to Port St Charles a whole two weeks late? That she had been serving on a ghost ship that ferried souls to the afterlife? She doubted they would believe her. She couldn't tell them that _The Intrepid_ had been delayed, obviously, because she wasn't going to be arriving on _The Intrepid_. She was most likely going to be arriving in a longboat, and it would definitely raise a lot of unwanted questions.

Christian frowned as she emerged on deck. It was an overcast day and a storm was obviously brewing. She was expecting to encounter at least one distressed ship today, if not more, and was absolutely dreading it. Captain Turner was at the helm, looking after his captainly duties as he should be, and she nodded to him while heading over to the work she'd left on deck before going to eat. It was another torn sail. It seemed every time she got one sail fixed, another one got destroyed.

Christian's face twitched in annoyance as the rain started to fall and the wind started to pick up. The canvas she was stitching flapped about wildly and she pricked her fingers numerous times trying to get the needle through the fabric. Unfortunately she was working on the largest sail and there were so many tears and holes in it she thought they'd be better off just getting a new one. But there was no time to get a new one out in the middle of the ocean.

"Hurry with that sail, Casey, we're gonna need it!" Someone above her called, as the wind blew harshly and the ship started to sway even more with the rough, choppy waves. Christian grit her teeth and went at her work, trying her best to get it done quickly. She didn't understand why they weren't just traveling underwater, but she wasn't about to complain. She hated going underwater.

Working diligently, she had about half of the sail fixed when the storm arrived, utterly terrifying in its magnitude. Thunder cracked overhead, startling the living daylights out of her, and she jabbed the needle far into her index finger. The blood started to pour and she paused to try and slide it out in the most painless manner, whimpering pitifully.

"Come on Casey, we haven't got all day!"

Christian resisted the urge to curse at the sailor.

"Just give me a minute here, I'm trying!" She yelled, grimacing as she yanked the needle out of her finger and drove it straight back into the fabric of the sail. In and out, in and out, she stitched the rips carefully but quickly. It took her about a half hour to finish the sail. It was the fastest she'd ever done it, but it apparently wasn't quick enough for the sailor up in the rigging. He came down to help her haul it into place, and then demanded she help attach it to the yard and hoist it up the mast.

"But that's not part of my job!" She yelled over the thunder and rain, trying to communicate to the man that she couldn't help. She didn't know how. And though most would think it a minor injury, her finger really was causing her a lot of pain.

"Are you mad? I don't care! Grab hold of this rope!" He bellowed, thrusting a thick, slippery rope into her hands. Lightning flashed, lighting up his panicked face, and Christian stared at him, completely at a loss.

"I can't! I don't—" She was cut off by another crack above, rumbling the ship and shaking her to her very core. The man turned back around and grabbed the rope as well, either not hearing her or not caring.

"Ready? And heave!" He called.

Christian felt the ship's eerie magic kick in and force her to pull the rope, yanking the sail up the mast. It was not even close to being where it needed to be though, and the man in front of her called out again.

"…AND HEAVE!"

She was forced to grip the wet rope and pull once again, nearly loosing her balance as a wave swept over the rail and knocked a few people off their feet. She briefly wondered how a storm could come on so fast and be so violent, but then she had to help pull the sail into place once more.

* * *

><p>Calypso was enjoying herself watching the girl try and work on the ship. The storm she'd brought was causing her quite a bit of difficulty. It was amusing how she'd gone from a posh, upper-class, finishing school lady into the lowest of the sailors on a pirate ship.<p>

And not just any pirate ship…_The Flying Dutchman_.

Calypso observed from within the turbulent water as the girl struggled to pull on a rope and raise a sail up a mast. The goddess was only there for one reason: to knock the girl overboard. So far she'd been good at avoiding her grasp, with the rope in her hands keeping her steady. But Calypso could easily fix that.

With a strong gust, powerful enough to shake The Dutchman's magic off her, the rope was torn away from her weak hands. Calypso then sent a huge wave over the side of the ship and watched as it caught the girl, slamming her headfirst into the rail.

Oops. Calypso could've done without the blow to the head, but it was too late now.

She could hear the men on deck calling things out, orders to one another, warnings, panicked yells and screams, but the one voice that cut clear across the others was William Turner's.

He was calling out to her. The girl was unconscious. Calypso watched with delight as the captain abandoned his post, making his way towards the fallen girl through the onslaught of rain. With a cruel laugh, Calypso sent another wave over the edge of the ship, finally collecting her prize. Christian Casey fell into the sea and sunk below the waves.

* * *

><p>Will called out as he watched Christian disappear with the flow of the water. He ran to the rail and leaned over, searching for her body. He froze up as something caught his eye.<p>

Two big black dots, just below the surface. His brows furrowed in confusion as he looked closer. The dots disappeared for a moment and then returned just a quickly, almost like a blink. With a jolt of fear, he realized they were _eyes_. Calypso's eyes. He backed away from the rail, knowing not to interfere. Even if he thought he should jump overboard to save Christian, he didn't want to interfere with whatever the goddess was doing. It might anger her, and he did not want that. He returned to the wheel and pretended not to have noticed a thing, sailing on into the night.

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><p>Calypso smirked and sent out a watery tendril to the girl, enclosing her in her grasp. The girl had an interesting destiny, that was for sure. It was definitely something Calypso would be watching later on. With an eerie smile, the sea goddess disappeared beneath the waves and swam towards her intended target, <em>The Black Pearl,<em>with the girl in tow. Interesting destiny indeed.

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><p>Far across the waters, in Port St Charles, Barbados, a worrying mother fussed over her youngest daughter. Sarah Casey, just ten years old, was as sick as a dog. Ellen Casey was scared beyond belief for her child, but would not let it show. She had to be strong. About a week ago she'd been told by the best doctor on the island that there was nothing to be done, and that the outlook was grim. With a gentle hand, she touched Sarah's burning forehead and watched as the girl's lashes fluttered. Her eyes creaked open.<p>

"Mama…Mama…"

"Yes darling, I'm right here. Mama is here." Ellen replied, leaning close to hear the raspy voice.

"When…when is Chrissy coming? I want… I want to see—" She broke off into a coughing fit, her lungs constricting as they tried to expel the gunk from within them. Ellen worried above her, bending down to retrieve a cool sponge from the water bucket beside the bed. She placed it on Sarah's forehead, mentally sending out a prayer to God to help her child through the sickness.

"Christian is…" Ellen trailed off, not knowing how to continue without upsetting the girl. Christian Casey, the woman's eldest daughter, was supposed to have been home already. She didn't want to think the worst about that situation either, but it was hard not too. The ship was almost two weeks late, and it wasn't looking too good. Then again, nothing was looking good to her right now.

"She will be here soon, darling. And when she gets here, you can tell her all the stories she missed."

The small girl smiled weakly from beneath the blankets.

"I'd like that…" She whispered, her eyes closing again.

"Get some rest, Sarah. I'll bring your meal up in a while."

The girl was already fast asleep. Outside the bedroom door, in the empty corridor, Ellen leaned against the wall and let her tears slip out. She'd been holding them for so long, but with the mention of Christian she just couldn't hold them back any longer.

"Are you in here dear?" Called Walter, her husband, from downstairs.

Quickly wiping the tears off her face with the sleeve of her dress, Ellen straightened up and sniffed quietly.

"Upstairs! I'm coming!" She called, heading for the staircase.

She found her husband downstairs in the lounge with a bottle of dark brown liquid in his hands.

"Try this, dear. It's the newest recipe."

Ellen made of fuss about the new rum, tasting it from a tall crystal glass, pretending she was fine. Walter didn't seem to notice she was anything otherwise. Sighing, she finished off the rest of the drink in silence. She truly loved the man, but sometimes he could be so oblivious.

"Isn't it delicious?" He asked, grinning at her from across the table.

"Oh, it's absolutely perfect." She replied. "Just perfect."

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><p><strong>There!<strong>** We finally meet Christian's parents. What did you think of them? And poor Sarah…fevers suck! What did you guys think about Calypso? She was hard to write… Drop a review and tell me what you think!**


	4. Chapter 4

**A new chapter. My longest one yet. I d****on't know why, but I don't like this one as much, even though we move forward a lot. Weird. I would appreciate it very much if after reading this chapter, you leave a review. So far I can't tell if there's a _positive_ or _negative_ response to this story, and it's REALLY frustrating. Tell me what you think! Does it suck? Do you love it? Do you feel indifferent? I'd like to know. It'll only take a second of your time. Thanks.  
><strong>

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><p>Josh Valentine dropped down from the rigging; his hands burnt, blistered and calloused. Though it hurt, he was enjoying the manual labor he was assigned on <em>The Pearl<em>. Anything was better than what he used to do in Tortuga. He'd worked at The Temptress, one of the more well-known bars. It was renowned for housing the most vicious all-out bar fights and impulsive, willy-nilly shootouts. Josh had been in charge of keeping the patrons from getting too rowdy (a nearly impossible feat), and cleaning up the messes in the morning. He'd received numerous punches to the face and an uncountable amount of glass under his skin. It felt great to be uninjured for once. Well, aside from the rope burns.

Joshua tore off a piece of fabric from his shirt and ripped it in half. He would need one piece for each blistered hand. He couldn't tie them himself, though. Noticing a sailor scrubbing the deck nearby, he approached and asked for some assistance. The man dropped his scrub brush into a soapy bucket and stood up, wiping his wet hands off on his breeches.

"Sure mate." He said, as Josh held his hands out. The boy grabbed the fabric for the one on the right and tied it tightly around his palm. He did the same for the left. Josh thought the man looked awfully familiar... He must have seen him around Tortuga.

"Thanks…Er…Do I know you?" Josh asked, his brows furrowing in concentration. He was sure he'd seen that face somewhere before, but his brain couldn't scrounge up the memories.

"Don't think so." The boy replied, tipping his hat forward over his eyes and getting back on his hands and knees to scrub away at the dirty deck.

"No? What's your name?" Josh continued, absolutely sure he knew the guy. It was frustrating to him that he couldn't remember where from.

"Charles Finch."

…It wasn't ringing a bell. Perhaps he was mistaken.

"Oh. Sorry, you just look familiar."

"I get that a lot." Charles said, clearly wanting to end the conversation.

Frowning, Josh turned away from Charles and went to the rail of _The Pearl_ to rest for a moment. Give his hands a break. It was an overcast day, cloudy and gray but without rain. Thank goodness, because Josh didn't think he could handle the rigging in a downpour. He was having enough trouble handling the ropes when they were dry.

He closed his eyes and listened to the sound of the water hitting _The Pearl_'s hull, memories swirling in his head. He recalled clearly the first time he met Katherine. It had been on the docks, also on a gray day, but she had been bright and warm like the sun, making up for the dismal weather twice over. He remembered the sound of the ships cutting through the water, the soft _shhh-shhh_ of the waves swirling around the boats as they came in to port. Smiling, Josh listened harder to hear it at the front of _The Pearl_. It sounded...off. Not rhythmic. It wasn't _shhh-shhh_-ing like it should be.

Looking down in confusion, Josh saw was a small brown object floating on the waves. He recognized it as a hat. It wasn't the source of the strange, irregular sounds, but it was still quite curious. He looked around the ship in question, searching for someone who might've lost a hat overboard, but found none. Nobody was gripping at their exposed scalp in puzzlement or cursing and demanding it be retrieved...So it belonged to someone else. His second thought was that someone on another ship far off in the distance had lost their hat and it had traveled on the ocean to their current location. It seemed like the most plausible scenario.

But then he saw the body.

"Man overboard!" He spluttered, moving down the rail until he was at the very tip of the bow. At this vantage point, he could see the person more clearly. They were stuck to the side of _The Pearl_, as if the ship had run over them and they'd gotten caught in the wood. He shivered, realizing that it was _the body _that was causing the strange sounds he'd been listening to.

"Starboard bow!" He clarified, as men ran to the rails to get a good look.

"Haul him aboard!" Came the captain's voice from the helm. Josh turned and watched as Jack Sparrow handed the wheel off to a man with a parrot on his shoulder and descended the stairs. Someone pushed Josh to the side.

"Outta me way, boy." A scruffy pirate with a coil of rope around his shoulder growled, glaring at him. All Josh could do was step back and watch in silence as a rope was tied around the man's waist, a line of pirates was formed, and they lowered him down to retrieve the person. The Captain approached and leaned over the rail to get a better look, seemingly assessing the situation. After a moment of silent observation, he whirled around and pointed at Josh with wide, panicked eyes.

"You, whelp! Go get a blanket! That's a woman down there!"

Mouth dropping open in shock, Josh scurried off down below decks to find one of the scratchy wool blankets that nobody liked but they seemed to keep around anyway. A woman? He couldn't believe his ears. Josh grabbed a blanket and hurried back up the steps. When he returned on deck, the woman had been rescued and was lying on the ground near the bow. A circle of curious pirates stood around her.

"Is she dead?" A dwarf sailor named Marty asked, taking a cautious step forward. The Captain was kneeling beside her, his head against her chest.

"Her heart's beating." He said, straightening up. "Slowly. I imagine her lungs are full of water."

"Then she don't have long, Cap'n. I seen a man drown once, an' he'd been rescued outta the bay long afore he died. He was all curled up in a bed. It were in his lungs, quietly killin' him. We thought he was asleep."

Josh pushed his way through the crowd, clutching the blanket tightly in his arms.

"So...what do we do?" Marty asked, raising his eyebrows in question.

"Get the water out." The Captain replied, looking down at the girl with uncertainty.

"How?" Gibbs asked, suddenly looking very worried. "Bad luck to have a woman aboard, even worse to have one _die_ aboard..." He murmured darkly.

"Oh for goodness sakes...She needs to be resuscitated!" Came a clear voice from behind the crowd. People turned around to see Charles Finch, the youngest of the bunch, still scrubbing the deck as if nothing had even happened. "Ever heard the expression 'Breathing new life' into something?" He asked, focusing on a dirty spot near a cannon.

The pirates turned back to their captain and for a tense moment everyone shared a nervous laugh. Josh set the blanket within reach of the captain and then stepped back, concerned about the woman but not wanting to get too close. He would watch to see how it all carried out. With a grimace, he realized that perhaps she wasn't in the best of hands and that she might actually die. He hoped it didn't come to that. He'd already seen one woman die before his eyes, and wasn't looking to experience it again.

* * *

><p>Jack Sparrow hated it when things like this happened. Always at the most inconvenient times and it was always <em>to him<em>, too. He always happened to be in the vicinity of a damsel when they suddenly became distressed. Except in this case, it wasn't so sudden. The woman had probably been stuck to _The Pearl_ for hours before the whelp look-a-like had noticed her...He wondered how she was still alive.

And now here he was, being told by the smallest weakling of the entire crew that she needed to be _resuscitated_. Have new life breathed in to her lungs. Looking around, he searched for someone willing to do it, but they were all looking at him expectantly. Well of course they were, he was the captain after all…

But it wasn't like he knew what to do. Elizabeth had only swallowed a minimal amount of water, and that had been solved by slicing open her corset. This girl had been in the water for who knows how long, and she wasn't wearing a corset. She had on a plain white shirt, thoroughly soaked through to the skin. There would be no corsets cut today. He would have to do what the boy had said, with the breathing and the life and whatnot.

Brushing the wet strands of hair off her face, Jack leaned forward over her and hesitated just a moment. For some reason, he felt as if he might regret this decision…But he'd regret it even more if she died. Jack sucked in a big breath and was about to begin with the revival when a thought suddenly occurred to him. He let his breath out and turned her head to the side, watching a small amount of water spill from her lips. He waited for her mouth to drain then turned her head back up, tilted it back, and...hesitated. Again.

"Plug 'er nose Captain. The air might escape, the breathing'd be useless."

Jack's face twitched in annoyance but he did what the sailor said anyway, reaching out and pinching her nose shut. He supposed it sounded right. Or _about _right, at least...And then he just went for it. He just closed his lips over hers and breathed. It was extremely strange and unusual, and he felt absurd doing it. He stopped after five breaths and sat back on his calves, his hands on his thighs, waiting.

She didn't stir.

"...Try again, Cap'n." Gibbs suggested quietly, looking even worse by the second.

Jack shrugged coolly (though he felt nothing but) and attempted it a second time. Five breaths, and then he waited once more. The pirates watched her face carefully for any signs of life. When she didn't move an inch, they began pulling off their hats and putting them over their hearts.

"Not even a twitch." Marty said sadly, looking at the body with pity. Then he crossed himself and took a respectful step back.

Gibbs still wasn't satisfied. He absolutely _did not_ want a woman to die aboard _The Black Pearl_. Nobody else did either, but Gibbs was the most superstitious of them all. He wasn't giving up.

"Perhaps just once more, Captain." He said encouragingly.

Jack sighed, doubtful. "Mister Gibbs—"

"Third times the charm." The whelp look-a-like said, his tone hopeful.

Jack grumbled and rolled his eyes. Once again he was reminded of how similar the boy was to William.

"Fine. But this is me last try. If the lass doesn't wake up this time, then she isn't ever going to wake up." He growled. He was the captain, he should be making the decisions. The crew wasn't supposed to tell him what to do, it was the other way around. Glaring, he knelt down and tried again. Five more breaths, a total of fifteen. The crew was on edge, watching the proceedings in tense, deathly (for lack of a better word) silence.

Once again, the woman did not budge. Jack leaned down and put his head to her chest, listening for her heartbeat. It was still there, but it was slowly fading away. The thump-thump was getting weak, very quickly. Jack stood up, and with nothing left he could do, pulled off his hat. Gibbs shuddered and crossed himself, following Marty's lead. Then he began a prayer.

"…Almighty God, may your mercy be shown to the soul of this woman—"

He was cut off by a horrible, disgusting, hacking sound.

Jack's eyes snapped down to the woman. She was alive! Before anyone could make a move, she turned her head to the side and emptied her stomach all over the deck.

"Oh great," Charles said, dropping his scrub brush into his bucket with a sigh. His swabbing had been for nothing.

The woman sucked in a shuddering breath and continued coughing, no doubt feeling a horrible sting in her lungs. It would be a while before they were completely empty. Jack put his hat back on and the deck immediately became a flurry of activity. The pirates began scurrying about, moving away to give her some room, hurrying to get back to work, or fumbling around like a bunch of drunken idiots.

Jack crouched down and helped the shivering, convulsing girl into a sitting position. Joshua picked up the blanket and put it around her shoulders. So many questions buzzed around the captain's head. What was her name? Where was she from? How had she ended up in the water, stuck to the front of his ship? He opened his mouth to ask all of these and more but all he got out was "Hello love..." before she leaned forward and retched again, all over his boots and the surrounding floor.

"For the love of—" Charles groaned, knocking over his bucket in frustration.

Jack, his face the very picture of disgust, took a giant step back.

"Erm…Perhaps you should do the questioning, whelp." He told Josh, glaring down at his sullied footwear.

"…Sure Captain."

* * *

><p>Christian's lungs were on fire. It felt like she'd breathed in the entire ocean, died, come back to life, and vomited it all back out. Which wasn't that far from the truth. It was an extremely painful, disgusting, and all around an unpleasant and uncomfortable experience. She felt a light touch on her shoulder and turned to see a nice-looking boy with brown hair.<p>

"Er…Hello. My name is Joshua, you're on _The Black Pearl_. May I ask your name, miss?"

Christian hesitated. Was it safe to tell him? She would need to find out more first. Clutching the blanket around her as she shivered, she quickly glanced at her surroundings.

Next to the boy stood the strangest creature she'd ever seen. A man with black hair divided in thick, chunky pieces, partially laced with beads and trinkets, brown—almost black—eyes surrounded by precisely drawn kohl lines, a beard braided into two separate strands on his chin, a curving mustache, and a bright red bandana beneath a tri-corn hat. He was tall, and she had to look way up to see his face, but maybe that had to do with her sitting on the ground. He didn't look very pleased. It wasn't a good sign. Perhaps that had something to do with her getting sick on his boots, though.

The ship was painted black. It wasn't clean, fresh paint, but old, chipped and gruesome looking paint. Down each side of the ship there were six or seven cannons. High up in the sky above her there were battle-worn black sails. She couldn't help but think _great, more sails to mend._

"What?" The taller man demanded, glaring down at her. She suddenly realized she'd actually rasped her thought aloud, and she felt the embarrassment set in. She remained quiet.

"Do you have a name, miss?" The boy tried again, obviously concerned about her.

Deciding they were trustworthy enough, she chose to reply. "It's Chr—" Christian cut herself off, coughing again, good and hard, as more water in her lungs made itself known.  
>The man with the red bandana took another step away from her. She finished hacking up gunk and groaned, putting a hand to her chest. She honestly didn't think anything could hurt as bad as what she was going through.<p>

"Christian." She finally wheezed.

"Alright Christian…Do you mind telling us where you came from?"

Suddenly, Christian became very annoyed with the two of them. She'd just been fished out of the water, and they were just going to stand there and question her? Shouldn't they be a little more hospitable? With great effort, she attempted to get to her feet and give them a piece of her mind. She stumbled forward, colliding with the man in the hat as she grumbled out an insult.

"That's not very nice." He retorted, grabbing her by the arms to hold her up.

"Captain, perhaps we should get her to a bed? She doesn't look so good."

Christian wasn't feeling too good, so it didn't surprise her that she didn't look too good either. She felt like walking death, and she probably looked like a drowned rat. She was certainly glad that at least one of them had some semblance of manners.

"No no, I'm sure she's fine. She just needs to sit down and keep her mouth shut."

Christian let out an angry noise and glared at him. Her head swam and she felt really tired. She guessed it was only mere seconds before she'd pass out, but she fought to stay awake, needing to stay alert.

"She looks like she's about to faint." The boy said, just before Christian fell to the ground with a dull thud, out like a light.

"Huh. Look at that, you were right." Jack said, looking down his nose at the unconscious woman.

* * *

><p>Josh, inwardly appalled at the captain's behavior, went to assist the girl. He couldn't believe that the man was being so rude. She'd drowned, almost died, and he had his knickers all in a twist because she'd thrown up on his boots? Honestly!<p>

"Where should I take her, captain?" He asked, gripping her around the waist to lift her off the ground.

"The brig."

Josh froze and stared at Jack with barely concealed outrage. Obviously the man was off his rocker. This was no way to treat someone who'd come extremely close to death, and especially not a woman!

"_Now_, Mister Valentine." Jack ordered, his eyes narrowing at the boy, challenging him.

Josh made a harsh sound of bewilderment and after a short internal debate with himself, hauled Christian off to the stairs. Down below, when he was sure he was alone, he took her to a hammock. He didn't care if he was going against the captain's orders…the man was being completely irrational. Tucking the blankets tightly around her, Josh paused to look at her face. Besides the freckles and dark hair, she looked quite a bit like…like his dear Katherine.

Suddenly, she coughed in her sleep and he jumped back, gasping in shock. Standing perfectly still, he waited to see if she would wake. When she didn't, he sighed with relief, putting a hand to his chest to calm his racing heart. Maybe he was just imagining things. Yes, he must be, because upon a second glance, she didn't look like Katherine at all. He was just being foolish.

"Get a hold of yourself" He said, putting a hand to his forehead in grief. He shouldn't be thinking about Katherine. It just made him sad. Instead, he should be thinking about what he'd do when he finally encountered the man that had caused it all…Rogue Warren. He'd kill the man for what he did to his Katherine!

* * *

><p>Back in Tortuga, a ship with blood red sails arrived at the docks. Mooring lines were tied, a gangplank was put down, and the crew dispersed into the city. Heading directly towards The Faithful Bride was the captain of the crew, a tall, muscled, redhead with a malicious smile and a violent, murderous reputation. He kicked the door open with a bang and the rowdy crowd froze in place, turning to the door in confusion. They recognized who it was and hurriedly looked away, immediately settling down. Grinning, the man entered the tavern and headed directly to the smallest, weakest looking man and grabbed him by the collar.<p>

"You're comin' with me." He growled, dragging the man to the shadiest corner of the whole place. "Sit down." He demanded, pushing the man into a chair with rough hands.

"I didn't do nothin', I swear, I didn't tell nothin' to no one, I—" The snitch, Barney Weavil began, giving the man a fearful look before glancing at his mates across the room with pleading, desperate eyes. They turned the other way.

The captain drew a pistol from within his coat and held it to Weavil's forehead with a nasty smile.

"Just tell me everythin' ye know about… Jack Sparrow."

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><p><strong>Alright. So like I said before, it only takes a second to review and it helps me out quite a bit knowing how you feel about my story. Plot, characters, writing style…Whatever it is, if you've got an opinion, please share it.<strong>


	5. Chapter 5

**A great big thank you to FunkyLooker29, xJill Lovett, Nes4597, CaptainTyphlosion, thing1966, Arianstar and LiliAnn Jackson for the Reviews/Favorites/Alerts. It's good to know you guys are enjoying my story :) This chapter is dedicated to you!** **For everyone else….be kind, rewind! …I mean…be kind, review!**

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><p>Joshua had worried about the woman the entire time that he was away from her. He worried that maybe she hadn't gotten all the water out of her lungs and that she was down below, drowning in herself. He worried that Jack would make a spontaneous visit to the crew's quarters and discover her in the hammock. He worried that she'd wake up alone and be afraid.<p>

These things weighed heavily on his mind, and he hurried below decks when he was finished with his work, opting to skip dinner. He needed to check on her, see if her heart was still beating. When Josh descended the steps and entered the area designated for the crew to sleep, he hurried over to the hammock and looked down at her.

Asleep...he hoped. He leaned over and placed his head to her chest, listening for the telltale thumps. Yes, there they were. Mild and fluttery, but still there. Sighing in relief, Josh took a step back and leaned against a wooden pole, thinking about the consequences of his actions. What would Jack say when he found out? Because no doubt, the captain _would_ find out. Suddenly, there was a voice behind him.

"You whelps are all the same."

Whirling around in shock, Josh searched the shadows for the source of the voice, his hand flying to the hilt of his sword. There was only one person who called him a whelp, and he really hoped it wasn't that person. After a tense moment, Jack Sparrow stepped out from the darkness, a rum bottle in his hand, a glare on his face.

"I told you to take her to the brig, Mister Valentine. Surely a mind as simple as your own can handle an extremely easy task such as that."

Josh swallowed nervously. He didn't want to fight with the captain, but on this issue he _wasn't_ in the wrong.

"The brig is no place for someone who's almost drowned...Captain."

"Correct me if I'm mistaken, Joshua, but is the brig not the place where we confine people?"

Josh didn't understand where the conversation was going. With a confused look, he responded to the captain.

"...It is."

"And in most circumstances, are those people confined most likely a threat or a safety risk?"

Oh. Now he understood where the conversation was headed.

"Captain, I hardly believe this girl is a threat...her heart is just barely beating."

"Nevertheless Mister Valentine, it is not your decision to choose where the bonny lass goes, is it?"

"Well, no...but—"

"And especially not if she has a weapon concealed upon her person."

Josh stared at Jack with raised eyebrows.

"A weapon?" He repeated, disbelieving.

"Aye, a knife in her boot."

"You searched her?" Josh asked, unable to help imagining Jack looting around in the girl's pockets as she slept, invading her personal space. Jack didn't answer verbally. Instead, he just held up a rough looking dagger and swung it back and forth like a pendulum between his thumb and finger. Even though the captain's actions were justified, Josh still thought them inappropriate.

"And you think she could've gathered the strength to attack someone with it?" Josh asked, doubtful.

"Rather overestimate then underestimate...mate. Now wake her up."

"What?"

Jack made a motion with his hands that Josh didn't understand.

"Wake her up and take her to the brig."

Josh scoffed and pointed at the knife in Jack's hands.

"How can she be harmful now?"

"A woman is a very complex creature, Joshua. She houses the ability to find something to hit somebody with at any given moment, no matter the time and place. Let's not wait to witness this miracle, aye?"

Disbelief washed over Josh in waves, but he'd already gone against the captain's orders once and he didn't think Jack would be willing to give him a second chance.

"...Aye."

Jack waited for Josh to lift Christian out of the hammock, blanket and all, and take her down another set of stairs to the brig. When they arrived, Jack pulled a set of keys from somewhere inside his coat and unlocked the nicest of the cells, one without a lot of leakage and a fair amount of hay.

"In here?" Josh asked dubiously, his eyes scanning the cage with disgust. As if agreeing, Christian coughed harshly in her sleep.

Jack nodded and made a sweeping motion with a hand, urging Josh into the cell. Sighing, he entered and set Christian on the ground, feeling a horrible twist in his gut. He knew it was wrong, but he really couldn't disobey the captain again. That would really get him in trouble.

"...And since you disobeyed orders, Mister Valentine, I regret to inform you that you'll be spending the night here with our lovely guest." Jack said, swinging the door shut before Josh could turn around.

Josh, hearing the metal creak and clang shut, quickly set Christian down on the ground and whirled back to face Jack through the bars.

"What are you doing?"

"Is it not obvious? I'm locking you up."

"That is highly unnecessary Captain."

"On the contrary, I find it very necessary. Did I not see you reach for your sword earlier?"

"I didn't know who was there!"

"Did it not cross your mind that we are on a ship? The only people you'll encounter are your own crew-mates. Not someone you'll likely be cutting to ribbons."

"Ever since Rogue, I don't take chances." Josh said darkly, his eyes narrowing.

"...Fair enough. Still won't get you out though. Keep an eye on our friend there, aye?" Jack grinned, swinging the keys around his finger as he backed away.

"Captain...Captain! Hold up! I think she might actually need a doctor. Shouldn't she be awake by now?"

Josh waited for an answer but none came. Jack was already gone. He sighed and turned around, taking off his coat and laying it on the ground. Then, with an angry look, he sat down.

He couldn't help wondering '_why did I have to get on __**this**__ ship?'_

* * *

><p>Christian was walking through an endless gray mist. She didn't know where she was or how she'd come to be there, but she didn't mind. It felt nice. Wearing a simple cotton shift, she waded through the haze in search of something. She'd actually forgotten what it was she was searching for, but that didn't matter. She'd remember what when she saw it.<p>

Every now and then, she'd hear a whisper of something and she'd pause, straining her ears to listen. It was always too unclear to make proper sense of. She couldn't tell if it was a woman or a man, or if they were friendly or unfriendly, or happy or sad or angry or indifferent. It was always too muffled. At other times she'd stop and question everything. Where was she? Who was trying to speak to her? Why was it so hard to hear? Why was it so hard to breathe? Why was it so cold?

She would walk for a few minutes, just wondering about everything, but then she'd forget about those too and move on. Almost like nothing had even occurred to her. Christian was content to tell herself stories as she walked. She couldn't quite grasp where it was she'd learned them, or why she wasn't forgetting them, but they were very entertaining at least. Galatea and her Grail, the Hesperides and their golden apples, and even a few scary tales about chimeras, sea-monsters and dragons. Her favorite had to be The Hesperides, the goddesses of the evening and golden light of sunset.

She wasn't quite sure why she liked the idea of sunsets so much, but she wasn't going to question it. Sighing, she continued into the mist, unable to see anything below her knees or far ahead. Sooner or later she'd find what she was after...She hoped.

* * *

><p>Outwardly, to the conscious world, Christian was sleeping like an angel. Well, aside from the hacking, coughing, shivering and muttering. Her condition was getting worse by the hour, and being cramped in a filthy cell wasn't helping any. Josh tried as best as he could to help her, whispering soothingly and keeping her warm.<p>

In the early hours of the morning she'd began shivering so much that he'd given his coat up to her.  
>He was no doctor, but he knew that it was no good to be freezing cold.<p>

He barely slept. A multitude of things kept him up: his anger at the captain, his worry for Christian, and the limited space. The cell only allowed enough room for Christian to lay and Josh to sit up, and so he sat, wide awake. His eyes were burning and his body was aching with fatigue by the time light began to filter down the stairs, signaling a new day.

The Captain, always rising bright and early, descended the steps just as Christian began another round of random rambling.

Josh remained seated and looked up at the captain through the bars, watching him glance at Christian questioningly.

"—idnight Fortune...Yes Sarah...Poseidon? No... of course! ...Mary, Christopher, stop it. Found?...no... mend ...sails."

"She's been doing that for hours." Josh said dully, his eyes beginning to droop.

"Interesting."

"...Concerning."

"To you." Jack said indifferently, scrunching his nose up at Christian. Then he looked at Josh and plastered on a big grin. "Up you get, your punishment is through. I've got some lovely black sails that need some unfurling, and you're just the lad to do it."

Christian moaned in her sleep and interrupted the conversation.

"...oath...serve...dutch—urnghhhh—" She cut herself off with a nasty sounding cough.

"She needs a doctor." Josh said, the lack of sleep showing in his tone. He wasn't the least bit happy

"Really?" Jack asked uninterestedly, shoving the key in the lock and jiggling it up and down with vigor until he heard a click. He let out a triumphant "Ha!" and swung the door open, waiting for Josh to get up.

He didn't move.

"Do you really not care if this woman lives or dies?" Josh asked morosely, staring up at the captain from beneath his brows.

"...I don't _not _care if that woman lives or dies." Jack casually evaded, making a motion with his hands that meant 'get up'.

"Because to me, Captain, it seems as if you couldn't care less about her, and she hasn't done a thing to you...Except vomit on your feet. And with the way you're acting now, I don't blame her."

Jack's good mood immediately went out the window.

"UP. Now, unless you plan on spending another night in the brig."

Josh let out a harsh laugh. Christian continued her mad ranting.

"Pink parasol! In the nose, hit him, I did—"

"I'll unfurl your sails Captain. But only if you take her to the nearest port."

Jack looked the boy up and down, assessing his ability to bargain. It was clear that he didn't find them impressive enough to get into it with him.

"Nice try, but I'm the captain here. I'll just shut you back up and get someone else for the rigging. Have a good day, Joshua." Jack smirked, going to shut the cell door again.

"Okay, wait!"

Christian burst out aain.

"...Story? Galatea...no, Hesperides. Like them... Sunset."

Jack froze. Not because of Josh, but because of Christian.

"What did she say?" He asked, turning to look at her. Josh grabbed the bars of the cell and pulled himself to his feet, then began stretching his sore limbs.

"I don't know. I stopped listening after three hours."

"You heard her though, didn't you? Just now? Did she say Galatea?"

"I don't know! I told you, I stopped—"

"Shhh!" Jack urged, frantically waving a hand to silence Josh. They quieted and waited, staring at the sleeping woman, listening carefully for her next words.  
>They never came.<p>

"...She appears to be finished." Josh said obviously, cracking his fingers before rubbing his sore eyes.

"Hmmm..." Jack hummed, his eyes getting a far away look as he thought. Josh could practically hear his brain whirring.

"Go to the sails, Mister Valentine. I'll take the lass to a doctor."

"...Really?"

"Really really."

"...I hope you're serious, Captain. I can't be too sure, but I don't think she has too much longer..."

"No worries. I know a good man who's right nearby."

"Hmm?"

"Indeed."

"And _where_ exactly is this man who is nearby?"

"…That would be Barbados."

* * *

><p>It took a whole other day to get to Barbados. The air between Jack and Joshua had been rather tense until Christian had woken up. It had been for a short minute or two, long enough for someone to run and get her food and water and feed it to her, but not long enough to ask her any questions or tell her anything. Even if she could've stayed awake long enough, Jack wasn't sure she'd understand. She was so confused at everything going on around her that she'd just stayed silent until she'd fallen asleep again.<p>

She blinked in and out of consciousness when _The Pearl_ pulled into an uninhabited cove of Barbados. They had to row to shore and then carry her on a short hike through the trees until they got to Port St Charles. Jack had gotten Josh to do that part, since he always seemed to be so concerned about the girl. Plus, _he_ wasn't about to do it, he was leading. When they got into town, Jack strolled proudly through the market, totally unconcerned with locals recognizing him as a notorious pirate. The port wasn't necessarily pirate-friendly, but they weren't going to go out of their way to catch one if they saw one. Jack remembered all too well a time from his past when he'd showed up in Barbados, bleeding buckets from his arm, and nobody had stopped him then…But that was a story for another time.

"Just over here, whelp." Jack said, leading Josh through the town towards a small brown shop marked 'Barber'. When they entered, a small bell above the door signaled their arrival. They waited for a long moment, but nobody came to greet them. Josh stood there with Christian in his arms, exhausted from the walk, while Jack took the opportunity to browse the store and nick a few trinkets off the shelves. A loud scream was heard from the back room, startling Jack so much that he knocked over a jar of combs.

"Bugger." He cursed softly, kicking the mess under a table as Josh snickered quietly. A moment later, a middle-aged man with crazy white hair and a brown apron came out from behind a curtain, wiping a pair of horribly bloody pliers off on a stained handkerchief.

"Sorry about that…So, how can I be of assistance?"

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><p><strong>Okay, I apologize for the shortness of this chapter and the random place that I cut it off, but <strong>_**come on**_**! Its five AM here! Sorry. Also, there might be a few grammatical mistakes. I'm not on the top of my game. Don't be afraid to call me out! And yes, I know Jack has been acting like a total D-Bag lately, but there are a couple reasons for that. Can you guess what they are? Also, what do you think about Josh Valentine? Like him? Hate him? Please leave a review and tell me what you think! Just click it….you know you want to! ****  
><strong>


	6. Chapter 6

**This chapter is super late and I'm so SO sorry! My life is pretty much always a hectic mess so I rarely have time for writing, and then when I do find time I always end up with writer's block. That's why this chapter is pretty short. I almost forgot where I was even going with this story. I remember now though, so hopefully I can churn out a few more chapters and get them edited and published soon! We're almost at 20,000 words!**

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><p>The man's name was Henry Parish. Apparently, he served as the town barber, dentist, and doctor. Josh couldn't be certain, but it looked like the captain had a history with the crazy old man. Especially since after said man had put down his bloody tool he'd greeted Jack Sparrow with open arms, a rare occasion in and of itself. Josh had stood there, awkwardly holding Christian, waiting for the two men to finish their conversation.<p>

"—And it was almost out, and then you stopped me to ask to—"

"Pass the rum, aye!"

"Definitely the only man on this earth who would stop a doctor in the middle of extracting a bullet from their arm to ask if they could pass them a rum bottle, that's for sure!"

The two shared a hearty laugh just as Josh's arms gave out. He gently dropped Christian in to a barber's chair, his energy depleted. Jack's attention was suddenly drawn back to the matter at hand.

"Aye Doc, but I'm not here for another impressive operation on me arm. I'm here for her." He said, pointing to Christian. "This lass here is stark raving mad."

"Oh?" Henry asked, a wispy white eyebrow rising high on his wrinkled forehead.

"No she's not, she's just delusional." Josh said, letting out a harsh breath as he sat himself down on the counter. He was dead tired. Jack glared at him and continued the story.

"Fished her out of the water not too far from here. She was drowning. In fact, she was almost dead. But then I saved her. I gave her the kiss of life." He said mysteriously, his eyes brightening at the prospect of creating another legendary story.

"Ah, excellent! Another one of Jack Sparrow's amazing acts of courage!"

"Yes, that was all _well and great_, except when she got sick he locked her in the brig with me." Josh grumbled, bursting Jack's balloon. Doctor Parish's face became the very picture of surprise as he listened to the conclusion of story.

"She got sick and you locked her in a brig? Jack, you know better than that!" He chastised, shaking a scolding finger at him.

"…We ran in to complications." Jack fumbled.

"You mean she vomited all over your feet and you couldn't handle it." Josh clarified.

Jack brought his thumbnail to his teeth and began chewing nervously, choosing not to respond to Joshua. Josh turned to the doctor and summed up Christian's behavior.

"She's been talking in her sleep ever since. It's never full sentences, just random words. She coughs and hacks all the time, and when she is awake, she doesn't really understand what's going on. Almost like she's lost her memory, or she's severely confused." Josh explained.

"Hmmm...It sounds to me like she's got a mild case of—" The doctor was suddenly cut off by two things. One, Christian woke up and vomited all over the ground, and two, a plump man emerged from the curtain in the back of the shop, a gruesome trail of blood dripping down his chin on to his shirt.

* * *

><p>Walter Casey took a long moment to recover from the dentistry in the back room before emerging. That tooth had been bugging him for ages, and it was high time he got it fixed. Yes, the procedure had been pretty painful, and he was ashamed to admit he'd yelled out, but compared to living with the tooth rotting away in there, it was almost nothing. Now all that was left to do was a bit of recuperation and then he'd get a replacement put in. But that would be in a few weeks, after he got a nice silver one made.<p>

Putting a hand to his cheek to dull the throbbing pain, he pulled back the curtain and stepped in to the main room. He was surprised to see that there were other customers. He hurriedly wiped the dribbling blood from his chin and took a quick moment to observe the trio. One, obviously the man in charge, looked like a wild creature. His black hair was dreaded and filled with beads, his eyes were encircled by black kohl, and he wore a battered tri-corn hat and at least a dozen sashes. Another was a thin young man with unkempt brown hair and dark circles beneath his eyes who sat hunched over on the counter, obviously exhausted. The third he couldn't see as well, for they were hidden behind the back of the barber chair. It was clear from the sight and smell that they'd just vomited. Walter averted his eyes from the scene.

"Er...Doctor Parish, what was the payment you required?" Walter asked, the fact that the new visitors were pirates settling in his mind. He decided that it was best to just leave as quickly as possible and pretend he hadn't seen a thing.

"Ah, Walter, how are you feeling now?"

"Thanks to the greatest dentist in all of Barbados, I'm feeling fine. Just dandy, actually."

"Good to see you bounce back so quickly! Now, for you my good man, the payment is only two shillings."

Walter took a moment to root around inside his pockets until he found his money stash. He removed 3 shillings from his coin purse, two for the fee and one as a bonus for the doctor's excellent service.

"Here you are Henry. I'll be back in about a week with another task for you."

"You're a good man, Mister Casey. Make sure to keep a cold cloth to that cheek, now!"

"Will do."

With a final glance at the pirates; the one on the counter, the one leaning against the wall and the one in the chair, Walter Casey exited the shop and headed back through town, on his way to the plantation and in turn, Casey Manor. What an interesting encounter... He just had to tell Ellen, she'd find the story _absolutely _enthralling. Pirates at the dentists, how fascinating!

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><p>Christian opened her eyes and immediately noticed the lack of a sway beneath her feet. It was unsettling to be somewhere still so suddenly. Unable to stop herself, she leaned forward and emptied her stomach over the armrest of the chair.<p>

Chair? Since when was she in a chair? The last thing she remembered was...er..._The Black Pearl_, yes, and being pulled out of the water. Then there were a lot of crazy dreams...and then something about going to shore. But what shore, exactly? Weakly turning her head to the side, she saw a man leaning casually against the wall, obviously looking at something beyond her sight.

What was his name? She didn't know, but he certainly looked familiar. She wouldn't forget a face like that. The dark skin, the cheekbones, the jaw line, the beard and mustache, the eyes...he just looked too unforgettable. She knew that she knew him somehow.

Christian heard people talking, and she tried to turn around and find out who it was, but her body was too weak. Instead she listened closely. One of the voices sounded so familiar that it sent creepy shivers down her spine. It took her a second to remind herself where she'd heard it before, but then it clicked in to place in her mind and she knew exactly who it was.

It was her father's voice!

Christian gasped in a breath, her chest constricting painfully. It would be extremely difficult to talk, that was for sure...But she had to get his attention somehow, to let him know that she was here! She was finally home! She turned back towards the man leaning against the wall, trying to gain his attention, but he was looking away.

Christian tried rasping a word, but nothing came out. She tried glaring a hole in to the man, but he didn't feel it. _Please _she thought desperately, hearing her father bid farewell.

A bell above the door rang, signifying that he'd left. Christian suddenly felt like crying her eyes out. Her body was weak, it felt like an elephant was sitting on her chest, she was fighting to keep from vomiting again, violent coughs wracked her body, there was a cloud of confusion over the events of the past few days, and worst of all, she'd just lost her chance to speak to her father.

"Like I was saying…"The doctor trailed off, actually forgetting what it was he had been saying.

"It sounds like what?" Josh asked, jogging the old man's memory.

"Oh! Right. It sounds like pneumonia!" He said cheerfully.

* * *

><p>Christian, despite trying to spit out desperate pleas to stay awake, had been force-fed nasty old syrup that put her quickly to sleep. After she was resting peacefully, the doctor had told the two men that Christian's condition was very unstable and that even the littlest of things could set her off. If they weren't careful, things could become fatal. She would need the utmost care and attention.<p>

"It's probably for the best if you stay on land a few days…let her rest on solid ground." Henry said, removing his hand from her forehead.

"No can do, mate. You see, there are things we have to do, and none of those things involve becoming sitting ducks."

Josh's eyes narrowed.

"Sitting ducks? That would imply someone or something is after us."

Jack's eyes widened momentarily in panic, but he recovered quickly and made a shooing motion with a heavily ringed hand.

"Nonsense. I simply meant it's best to get back to _The Pearl_ and set sail as soon as we possibly can…savvy?"

Josh was skeptical but let it go. He turned to the doctor and asked a question that was on everyone's mind.

"So what do you recommend we do for her on a ship?"

Henry took a moment to think, then raised a finger high in the air, as if he'd found a solution.

"I'll consult my texts."

The two pirates watched the white-haired man scurry up and down his bookshelf, looking at titles again and again, muttering to himself, removing a tome to skim the pages and then putting it back directly where it came from for a full fifteen minutes before anything happened.

"Here we go! Yes….at sea, hmm….and then….of course!"

"What?" Jack asked, pushing off from his relaxed stance against the wall.

"You are to keep her in a bed at all times, let her rest plenty, make sure she gets lots of food and water, feed her the syrup, and last but not least, keep a bucket nearby."

"A bucket." Jack repeated dully, his face falling.

"Indeed." Henry replied.

"That's for the vomit, Captain." Josh said in a cheeky tone, grinning widely. He avoided Jack's acidic glare. "And did I hear something about a bed?" He added, deciding to have even more fun.

"No." Jack sniffed, casually crossing his arms and doing a loop around Christian's chair.

"A bed. The best you have." Henry clarified, reading along the lines in his textbook. Jack looked over his shoulder to read for himself. He didn't like what he saw.

"Say captain, don't you have a nice fancy bed up in your cabin?"

"I can't say as I do, Mister Valentine." Jack replied harshly, trying to burn a hole in Josh's face with his eyes.

"Yes, a big old—"

"Bed? Captain's cabin? Yes, that seems acceptable. Put her there, Jack. No brig this time." The doctor said, shutting his medical book with a clap and setting it down next to Josh on the counter.

"No." The Captain replied, absolutely refusing. He would not have the vomitous girl in his bed come hell or high water.

"Jack…I may have taken a bullet out of you but I can sure as hell put one back in… twice as fast." The doctor warned, his tone joking but his face serious.

The captain looked the old man up and down, assessing the truth in his words. After a moment of silent contemplation, Jack took a cautious step back. Henry burst out in to mad laughter. It made Josh feel uneasy, and he slid a little farther away from the crazy old man uncomfortably.

"Fine." With an angry look, Jack dug around inside his coat and pulled out a few coins. He handed them to Henry and then moved to grab the gross green syrup off the table, but it was snatched up by the doctor before anyone could blink.

"Give the boy a break, Jack." Henry said, handing the bottle over to Josh.

"So I'm to carry her then?" Jack asked disbelievingly, shooting a dark look at the unconscious girl.

"You've got two arms and two legs, don't you?" Henry asked, laughing again.

Jack scowled but bent and hauled Christian out of the chair anyway. He stumbled for a moment, underestimating her weight. Josh held back his own chuckle. The captain was getting a taste of his own medicine now.

"Open the door, whelp." Jack snapped.

The two pirates exited the shop, the sound of the doctor's crazy laughter fading behind them as they emerged on to the street.

* * *

><p><strong>Christian's dad! Didn't even recognize his own daughter, eh? I did leave a hint a few chapters back about his obliviousness to everything except fine rums. But he's a well-meaning guy, honestly! Lots of good old action should be coming up in the next few chapters. I know it seems like everything is moving a little slow, but all the events up to now have been necessary. It'll all come full circle in the end! <strong>


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